5. Superstar. My superstar
CHAPTER 5
Superstar. My superstar
CALUM
I shaved, not because Mum asked, but because Yani touched my beard. No matter how often I brush my mouth, I still feel the imprint of her lips on mine. What was I thinking when I said yes to Mum? I don’t need a girlfriend. I don’t care what the media says about my sexuality.
They want music, and I’m giving them music. That is that. Or so I want to think, but I can’t ignore the buzz generated since those pictures went live. I didn’t have to do it. The handler posted them to my socials after selecting the best five. I browse through the comments on my Instagram from my other account. Some are mean, others are neutral. A few wish me well. One thing is common with all the comments: they believe the post. They think Yani is real.
My head falls back, and I close my eyes. Around me, footsteps echo in the corridor, with the faint smell of antiseptic acting as a constant reminder of my location and unresolved issues. A tap on my knee has my eyes opening. I blink to clear the confusion, and the nurse smiles. She was the one who told me to wait because Dr Aaron was busy. Scott got me the doctor.
“Doctor Aaron will see you now,” she mutters.
“Thanks,” I reply.
When she leaves, I massage the back of my head. The corridor is empty, giving me ample time to refresh my thoughts. In a few steps, I’m in front of his office. I knock twice and enter.
“How often are the headaches?” Dr Aaron asks once the pleasantries are over.
We spoke about this before this appointment, but my throat still closes. I twist my hand this way, then that way like I used to do in physical therapy when my body forgot how to behave.
“A few times,” I finally say. “But not as consistent as before.”
The silence drags. There’s nothing of interest in his plain, white office, so I tap the beat of our new song on his table. He chuckles softly and picks up the black and white print on his table.
“Any issues with your hands?” he asks.
As if to test them, I roll my arms and flex my gloved fingers. “None so far.”
The first time I lost feeling in my arms, I thought my life was over. What’s a guitarist without his hands? I can’t hold a microphone if my arms are paralysed. As always, it was linked to the accident. I swear everything is connected to it. Yet, I have only pieces of the events that changed the course of my entire life. The more I try to remember, the more annoying my headache becomes. There’s a gap in my memory. Loads of events I may never recover.
“Doctor?” I say as Dr Aaron scribbles on his notepad. He looks up. I drum on my knees, count to five, then to ten. “I have these…” I take a deep breath. Mum would think it was the accident. That was why I didn’t mention it to her. I know this girl is important to me, but I don’t know why no one has mentioned it. “I have flashes about a girl. A girl with pink hair.”
“Pink hair?” Dr Aaron mutters. I nod slowly, and he frowns. “Is it someone you know?”
“I don’t know. But I see her more often, and it…”
Heat creeps up my neck, and I leave the statement hanging. I don’t even know if this pretty pink-haired girl is who I think she really is, but I blush at the thought and memory of her.
“It what?” Dr Aaron urges.
“It kind of calms me,” I reply.
“Perhaps a girlfriend?”
My eyes flit to the only window. I have no girlfriends. I never dated. Music is it for me. My first love. My life. My girlfriend.
“I don’t think so, but I think she was—she is important.” His eyes crease at the corners as he ponders my words. Shuffling notes into a file, he sits up. I don’t like his expression, how he tucks his hand under his jaw to observe me. “I could be imagining it. Maybe she’s not real.”
“Maybe. But in my experience, if it occurs so often, then it must mean something.” His chair squeaks as he leans back into it. Honey eyes watch me. “Have you spoken to your mother? Sam? Lucas? Or any of your close friends that were around when the accident occurred?”
I stare at my feet. A thin layer of dirt cakes my boots. I didn’t use the driver. I needed some time to myself, and no one recognised me on the bus with my baseball cap and sunglasses. This is not my first rodeo with fame, but it’s more suffocating without the euphoria of drugs.
“No,” I mumble. My head lifts. I swipe my hands over my jeans and force a smile to my lips. “I didn’t. I figured if she was important to me, they would have mentioned it to me, right?”
Dr Aaron says nothing. The tip of his pen raps against the table. “You should ask them.”
We exchange goodbyes, and I exit the clinic. It’s cold outside. But I spread my arms, and the breeze caresses my face. The world moves past me without a care. It’s crazy how everyone wants a taste of me when I’m on the stage. But now, with my cap drawn over my forehead, no one cares about this man dressed as casually as them. Tugging the glove off one hand, I pull out my phone and start in the other direction. Not in the mood for a public ride or chat, I text the driver to come get me. Xander replies almost immediately like he has been watching and waiting for the text. I wouldn’t put that past him since he also doubles as an extra bodyguard.
The black Rolls-Royce Ghost pulls up in the street and the people around slow their walk. I push away from the wall I’m resting on, almost bumping into a couple. A few people stop to take pictures of the car while others hurry on like this is typical or none of their business.
A few heads turn my way as I hurry to the car. Keeping my head down, I tug the baseball cap over my forehead. The minute they realise who I am, more phones appear out of nowhere, and the click-click of their cameras motivates me to jog the rest of the distance to the car.
Once inside, I slump in the backseat. Xander spares me a glance in the rearview mirror, and I give a mock salute. He nods, and the car zooms off. I watch the small crowd that gathered break off, grateful for the tinted glasses and my good sense to move away from the clinic.
A lot of fans showed their love and support at the band’s reunion five months ago. I knew there was a high number waiting for us to fail again like we did the first time. Even now.
If you sign with a new label, what will you do differently?
The question, so soft-spoken, echoes in my head. The feminine voice is familiar, yet not so familiar. I place a hand over my head, begging my brain to help me out here. How’s it I survived a blunt force to my head, and I can’t do something as simple as remembering her?
Why can’t I remember?
Isolate.
That was my answer to the question. Who was I talking to? Mum? It can’t be Mum. We don’t have that sort of conversation. I open my eyes and look out the window. We are at Sam’s and Lucas’ apartment, and I’m a little closer to getting more answers, I hope . Sweat forms under my armpits. I flatten my palms on the backseat, and a random image flashes in my mind.
Pink hair. Blue eyes. Beautiful smile.
Nothing like Yani. Speaking of her, my phone vibrates in my pocket. For people in a fake relationship, she calls me way too much. Her text wants to know if I would be interested in following her to the hair salon. It’s swoon-worthy and would drive the fans insane. Sounds like an idea Mum planted in her head. One more month, and I’m done with the idiotic facade.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Xander as I exit the car.
Mum has no idea where I am, so the chances of my fake girlfriend showing up are slim. We need to make more public appearances, but for now, I’ll avoid her as much as I can. Instead of the elevator, I take the stairs two at a time to avoid bumping into anyone.
How do I bring up the topic? I reach their floor. They live on the same floor but in different apartments. I choose to go to Lucas. If I’m lucky, Sam will be in his apartment. I knock. If I knew I would drop by, I would have come with my key. Another knock, and nobody opens. I twist the knob, and it gives in. Once I step inside, I understand why no one heard me knock.
It is loud. Not so loud I want to plug my ears, but loud enough for them to not notice my presence. They are in the living area that doubles as a practice ground. Sam’s guitar is plugged in, and his eyes are closed as he strums a few chords to match the bass coming from the other end of the room. I walk further into Lucas’ space. He looks up and kills the sound.
“You’re not naked,” is the first thing I say.
Lucas glares at his boxers and chuckles. “Sam showed up. Made me dress up.”
Grey furniture of different shades lines the wall. My feet sink into the dark grey rug as I grab the guitar at Sam’s feet. Lucas likes to practise naked. It helps him feel everything. Yes, he’s weird. But he does his part, and as far as he keeps his prick far away from us, we are good.
The guitar feels heavy in my hands. I frown at the wall, trying to force my fingers to function. Five frames hang on the wall. One is a signed soccer jersey. Two is us at different events. The rest are vinyl with signed sleeves. Giving up, I prop the guitar on the wall and breathe.
Lucas is on his feet, a towel around his neck to clean up the sweat soaking his brows. Sam drops his guitar to give me his full attention. I didn’t alert them of my arrival. I’m nervous.
Turning my back to them, I ask the one question I’m not sure has an answer. “Why didn’t any of you tell me I had a girlfriend?”
“What?” they chorus. “What girlfriend?”
My gaze hardens. I stalk to the centre of the room and place my hands on my waist. Sweat flattens their hair to their scalp and forehead. They know something, but I don’t know what.
“Are you really going to be like this?” I say.
“Look, Cal, it was all your mum’s idea,” Sam says.
“To do what?” I ask.
Lucas stomps on Sam’s foot. I repay the kindness by kicking his knee. Sam tries to talk, and Lucas rushes over, slapping a hand over his mouth. Their eyes communicate, and Sam finally shrugs. Whatever quiet conclusion they came to convinces Lucas to step away from him.
“Not talk about the past,” Sam supplies. “The past is gone.”
A quote she has used too many times to count since she moved in with me. The past is gone. Focus on the future . She’s right, but not entirely because the past isn’t fully gone. Some part of me is in the past and my future will never be complete without it. I’m missing something.
“So… I had a girlfriend?” I say.
Lucas plops down on the couch and guzzles water from a bottle I never noticed.
“Yeah,” Sam replies.
It’s one word, but it sends multiple fists to my heart. I slide down to the floor, knees pushed up and elbows propped on them. It hurts more than it pisses me off. I had a girlfriend.
I. Had. A. Girlfriend. The heels of my palms press to my forehead, my eyes close, and I see the girl again, more clearly. She smiles and mentions my name.
Cal. My heart flutters. I love the way she says it. Like a girlfriend would.
I stare at the worried eyes centred on me. “Did she have pink hair?”
Lucas settles beside me. Sam sticks to my left. “No. Black, I think,” Sam answers.
He looks at Lucas as if to confirm it, and Lucas nods. “Yeah, black. Black hair. Blue eyes.”
“I had two girlfriends?” I ask. Maybe I had a thing for girls with blue eyes. Sam says nothing to that so I add, “Let me get this straight. I broke up with Pink hair and dated Black hair?”
“Maybe. I dunno. We only met the one with the black hair,” Lucas says. “She was a beauty.”
“Where’s she?”
“No idea,” they chorus.
“What was her name?”
“Can’t remember,” Sam says.
Oh. I turn to Lucas, expecting another reply. His hands sweep into his dirty blonde hair. He dyed it after losing a bet. “Can’t remember, but you called her superstar,” he offers. “Sorry.”
Superstar. My Superstar.
She does look like a superstar. I pound my feet into the floor. I had two girlfriends and Mum never mentioned any of them. Maybe they broke my heart. If I was important to them, they would be here now. They would have shown up at least once or called frequently like Tessa.
The past is in the past . Mum only said that to protect me from remembering the hurt. Maybe she is completely right. The past is in the past, and the future is all I have to look forward to.
I stand. Lucas jumps up. “Are you leaving?” he asks. Fear creeps into his voice. “Bro, are you mad? I swear we would have mentioned it, but your mum said not to do that. It could have triggered you or something. That’s what she said. And you never talked about it, Cal. Cal.”
A smile splits my lips as I stop in front of his door. Contrary to what he thinks, the only emotions I feel are hurt and exhaustion. “I’m not mad, Luc. I promise. But I need to rest.”
“Okay,” he says. His fingers tangle in his hair. “Let us know when you get home. Call us.”
“I will.”
“Cal?” that comes from Sam. He’s still seated on the floor, his legs crossed under him. “You can talk to Tessa. The two of you have always been close. She might know about the girls.”
I open the door and step out. Without thinking, I rush back to Lucas’ apartment and hug them.